AN: Here we are, the next chapter. A chapter I happen to be proud of. I'm not going to lie guys, I love writing these fools as if they were in college. College was the best four years of my life and I'd do it all over if I could. This is my way to do that.
So, I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I am enjoying writing it.
The hallway was quiet as Andy walked down it. She kept checking her phone even though she knew what time it was. And that no one had tried to text or call her in the last twenty seconds. The bank of offices at the end of the hall, directly in front of where she was standing, was just as quiet as the hall. Except, she knew, they were filled with TAs from all different classes. She knew that because she had studied her CJ 101 syllabus to death before getting up the nerve to go and talk to Sam.
After she nearly spilled her guts to him on Friday, she woke up on Saturday with just an inkling of a headache. She didn't know it at the time, but her father was waking up in a condition about 100 times worse than her own. So, when the hospital called her to pick him up on Sunday after another night of drinking and a pump of his stomach, she emailed her professors and told them she'd be missing classes on Monday. It was a family emergency, after all.
Her roommates told her that she didn't miss much, just the first paper assignment. And when Boyko emailed her back, he was explicit in telling her to talk and take advantage of her TA. So, she stood outside the office he was sitting in and she dreaded the moment of having to face him. She was embarrassed about what happened on Friday and she would have been had she seen him in class on Monday, but, at least there, she would have had the safety of the rest of the class. From where she stood, she could see the office completely empty save for Sam—who stood as soon as he saw her.
"Hey," he said, resting his palms on the small desk. "Come on in."
She took a deep breath, plastered on as real a smile as she could work up, and stepped over the threshold. "Nice office," she remarked, looking at the bare walls and the aging carpet—anything to avoid the eyes she fell asleep thinking about the night before.
"Yeah," he said, sitting down. "I think, like, ten other TAs use it throughout the week. I'm just here an hour, two days a week."
"Cool," she nodded to herself.
"Family emergency, huh?" Sam asked quietly and she finally let her eyes meet his. "Everything okay? You want to talk about it?"
"Nope," she shook her head sharply, sitting down across from him. "I just came for the paper assignment."
"Right," he said, reaching for his backpack. Andy wasn't sure if she heard a touch of disappointment in his voice, but she'd pretend it to be true until she was sure. He looked across the desk at her, sliding the paper slowly. "It's three to five pages on criminal profiling," he said, letting his hand linger on the assignment. "Focus on chapters 1 through 3 in your book."
"Thanks," she said, reaching for the other side of the paper so she could put it in her bag. Sam had another idea, though, because he was still holding onto his end. "What are you doing?" She asked, flattening her palm to cover the majority of the paper.
"I'm trying to be nice to you," he said with a smirk and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her girly smile from erupting.
Sam was trying to be nice and he was trying to make sure that Andy knew full well that she could talk to him about what was going on in her life. Because, damn it, Oliver was right—he was screwed. This eighteen year old girl sitting in front of him was making him remember what it was like to want to be there for someone. She was keeping him up at night, especially the night before when he had no idea why she hadn't been in class. And she was always there. Even when she wasn't actually there, Sam wanted her to be enough that he could imagine her right there with him. This freshman with her eyes that spoke louder than her words, her hair that looked about a thousand different shades depending on the light she was under, and her smile that always made him proud when he was the one to make her do it—she was leaving an impression on his overwhelming life. And he didn't mind it one bit.
"I was hoping you wouldn't remember that," she said, taking her hand away to twist a piece of hair behind her ear. "Like, you were drunk or something."
"How could I have been drunk when you spilled most of my first beer down the front of my shirt?" He asked her, pretending that her response didn't feel like a rejection.
"Okay," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "That wasn't my fault. We were joking about something and Chris shoved me. Blame him."
"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I'm going to blame you, because that way you'll owe me a beer."
He was being more upfront with her than he intended to be after their run in at the Penny. But he was so relieved to see her outside of his office that he didn't care if he was coming off like some lovesick puppy. Not that he was lovesick; he merely had a crush on the girl. And admitting that, in those words, is what got him the bruise on his arm after Oliver punched him for using the word "crush" as a man in his mid-twenties.
"Okay," she shrugged, sitting up straighter and he smiled in surprise. "But only if you let go of this paper. I still have to go to my bio professor's office and my English TA's. Plus I have class with Oliver in, like, 45 minutes."
"Fine," he said, lifting his hands slowly from the desk and she smiled before taking it quickly and folding it into her bag. "Let me know if you need any help with that. It's what I'm here for," he reminded her and she nodded, standing up slowly.
"Really?" She asked, hitching her bag onto her shoulders. She rested her palms on her side of the desk and leaned down. "I thought you were here to get innocent freshman girls to buy you beer."
Sam laughed, but stood to match her stance—his face a mere few inches from hers. "Not any freshman girl," he corrected her. "You."
"Okay, Sam," Andy laughed. She stood up and wiped her palms over the front of her jeans and he stood up and crossed his arms. "Thank you for, you know… being nice to me."
"Oh, it's my pleasure, McNally," he promised and she nodded once and turned to leave. When she reached the door, she turned back and smiled one last time and he waited until he heard her talking to another TA a few offices down the hall before sitting down.
Sam felt like he was eighteen years old again. Maybe it was the fact that Andy was only just eighteen herself, but whatever it was, he didn't hate feeling that way.
At the end of the day, Andy sat alone in her dorm room. She was catching up on the little work she missed the day before and trying to get as much done for the classes she didn't miss. Her bed was covered in books and papers and she was folded like a pretzel in the corner while she read over her CJ 101 paper assignment.
"You know," Traci said when she walked in, tossing her purse onto her bed. "Jerry's not as bright as a grad student should be."
"Why is that?" Andy asked, laughing as she looked down at Traci on her bottom bunk.
"I don't want a boyfriend and he seems to be trying really hard to become my boyfriend," she said, resting back on her pillow.
"He's only known you for a week," Andy scoffed. "Jeez."
"That's what I'm saying! Thank you!"
"Although, you like him, right?" Andy asked now, pushing her books to the end of the bed so she could let her feet dangle over the edge.
"Yeah," Traci told her, letting her head fall to the side so they were looking at each other. "But, I dated Dex all through high school. I've only been here a week."
"No, I get it," Andy nodded. "I just- I guess, I don't get it," she laughed. "You like him, he's a nice guy that likes you back, what's the matter?"
"He's not the only nice guy around, you know," Traci smiled. "I don't want the first guy I meet to be the guy I end up spending all of my college years with. I want to explore a little, you know?"
"Yeah, I think I do."
"But he did tell me something very interesting that I think might concern you," Traci said, smiling conspiratorially now.
"I don't think I want to know what it is," Andy said, pulling her legs back onto her bed.
"Not even if it involves a certain TA?" Traci asked, feigning innocence and Andy shook her head as she opened her bio book and the notes Dov let her borrow. "Come on, Andy. Sam's hot and he's older and he's got a th-"
"Traci," Andy said, sitting up again. "Please. I don't want to get my hopes up, okay?"
"You really like him?" She asked, standing up before she walked across the room to crawl the ladder onto Andy's bed. Andy made room for her, tossing her books and notebooks into her bag that she, then, dropped carefully onto her desk chair.
"I don't know if I'd use the word really," she said and Traci laughed as she rested against the wall. "But, yeah, I like him. You're right, though, I can't just fall for the first guy who smiles at me."
"Hey, you and I—we're different," Traci reminded her. "If you want to date Sam, then date Sam."
"And if you want to date Jerry, then date Jerry," Andy smiled and Traci shook her head. "I think you like him more than you're willing to admit."
"You're probably right," Traci admitted. "You want to talk about your dad yet?" She asked, changing the subject.
"I'm definitely right," Andy said quietly. "And, no, not yet. Or ever."
"Okay," Traci sighed. "But I'm a really good listener. Seriously, I'll listen to you go on and on about Sam just as easily as I'll listen to you spill your guts about your dad. That's what friends are for, anyway."
"Same to you, you know."
"I know," Traci smiled, reaching out to squeeze Andy's knee.
Just then, their door flew open and Gail came in, kicking off her shoes. "I kissed Chris," she whispered as soon as the door was closed.
Andy and Traci exchanged a look. "You kissed Chris?" Andy asked and Gail shushed her before climbing up to join them.
"Move over, Trace," she said and Traci shook her head. "You both suck."
As Gail climbed over them, Andy and Traci moved around to make sure they'd all fit with their backs against the wall and their feet dangling over the opposite side. "So, you kissed Chris?" Andy asked again.
"Stop talking so loudly. He lives right next door. His bed is literally right on the other side of this wall," Gail reminded her.
"You mean this cinderblock wall that we've never heard a peep through even though we know how loud he and Dov are?" Traci asked. "I think we're okay."
"Fine, yes, I kissed him," she said, throwing her arms in the air. "I made out with his face and it was pretty great."
"When did this happen?" Andy asked, picking a piece of lint off of Gail's pants.
"Like, two seconds ago," she shrugged, focusing hard on the spot on her jeans where Andy just picked the lint. "Right downstairs in the common room. We won a game of ping pong against the RAs. I was feeling celebratory."
"Sure," Andy nodded, trying hard not to laugh. "How was it?"
"He's a better kisser than he looks," Gail admitted.
"He looks like a pretty good kisser," Traci said quietly and Gail reached across Andy's lap to hit her in the thigh. "So, you planning on kissing him again?"
"The ball's in his court," Gail decided right then and there. "What about you, Trace, are you still falling for your grad student?"
"Trying not to."
"And you, Andy? Are you still pretending you're not in love with our dimpled TA?"
"I am not in love with him," Andy insisted. "It's just a crush."
"Ha, yeah right," Traci laughed. "You can't just have a crush on Sam Swarek. Plus, you're going to be 19 in three days; I think we're all past the age of 'crushes.'"
"Fine, I am not in love with him and I do not have a crush on him," Andy agreed. "I like him. I have feelings for him."
"Good," Gail nodded with a mischievous smile. "Then do something about it, will you?"
"Only if you do something about Chris."
"Hey, I already did. Have you kissed Swarek yet?" She asked and Andy shook her head slowly. "Didn't think so."